


love me (but this is below the belt)

by Coquette



Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Calculating Angelo, Corteo gets all the hurt, Corteo my precious cinnamon roll, Dubious Consent, M/M, Manipulative Nero, Nobody dies though it's close, Sorry Not Sorry, What Was I Thinking?, and a little - Freeform, the fluff is yet to appear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-18 06:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8152111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coquette/pseuds/Coquette
Summary: Angelo walks in on Nero torturing Corteo for attempting to murder him.Needless to say, things do not go as planned. Or maybe exactly as planned.Nero would know.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Um. This can be regarded as non-timeline specific right now for this au story. It could fit in anywhere comfortably, but I don't think - well, I'm not even sure why I wrote it but after last Friday I would have bitten my nails off if I didn't find another way. So assess this as it pleases you. I will reorder the series when I find a suitable niche for this one.
> 
> Corteo fans, at the outset, I'm sorry! Our precious cinnamon bun does not deserve this!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Avilio is... soft for their line of work. He still cares for what he believes is his; his near and dear, his family. But in Nero's world, family doesn't mean a father who dandled you on his knee as a kid or a mother who kissed the hurt away. Family means _Family_ -men who have sworn their loyalty to him in blood, sweat and death. 

 

Avilio still hasn't realized that he cannot have a family outside the Family.

 

 

Nero watches him as he approaches. Avilio’s hands are held up in a non-threatening gesture, his steps slow but sure.

 

 

He might just as well be approaching a cornered animal the way he's trying not to spook Nero. It's funny, or it would be funny if he was paying closer attention. He's more occupied with a matter close at hand.

 

 

“Nero.” Avilio’s voice is blank. Careful, always so careful that kid. Only his face betrays him. His eyes glow a pretty amber in the gloom but his mouth is a tight line of mutiny. “What are you doing?”

 

 Nero tightens his fist and jerks ruthlessly. A sudden gasp echoes in the room, followed by a low choked off bleat of pain.

 

 

“Let him breath, Nero.” There's urgency in Avilio's voice, faint, still present. It has no place being there, Nero thinks darkly.

 

 

Nero wipes away the tears welling up at the corner of the kid’s eye and shushes him, ignoring Avilio for the moment. “Don’t cry,” he reprimands, absently stroking his thumb over a wet cheek, dark eyes trained on the figure trembling for breath before him. “It’s embarrassing. Men shouldn’t cry, Corteo.”

 

“ _Nero ._ ”

 

 

Nero sighs. “What is it, Avilio?” he demands impatiently. “I’m a bit busy here.” He straightens up, fixes his eyes on Avilio as if to say - fine, you have my full attention then. Speak.

 

 

“That’s- Nero, that’s -” He stops. Swallows. Drops the hand he’d stretched out in a aborted movement to stop Nero.

 

“-your what?” This time, Nero looks at him closely. It's a point of pride for Avilio that he remains calm and collected most times. A darkly dangerous bored, even. But now he looks for lack of another word, uneasy. And, perhaps, is that the start of desperation?

 

 

It’s not a word he ever thought he’d use in tandem with Avilio. At least, outside their bed. That was probably the only time the boy let his guard slip, even a little. Desperation was just impatience then, but Nero can tell the difference well enough.

 

 

Nero lets the slightest hint of a smile curl his mouth. “Oh, yeah,” he says pleasantly enough. “I forgot. He was your friend, right, Avilio? My my, how times change.”

 

 

Angelo grits his teeth. “Why are you doing this?” he says finally, taking another step forward.

 

 

Nero tugs on Corteo’s shirt collar in warning, lets his hitching breath be a sign for Avilio to keep his distance. There are some lessons it seems Avilio still hasn’t taken to heart.

 

 

No matter. Nero was taught. To another he can teach.

 

“You know better than to ask questions in this room,” he says, instead, gesturing at the dank concrete walls; the hanging chains; the blood stains fresh and old. “But I shall humor you, my _angioletto_. Your little friend here has been making liquor. Damn good liquor! Better than our booze, that's for sure. Not for us, eh, Corteo, but for that bastard Orco. That wouldn't really worry me, you know? I’ve had good deals go awry in the past, had rival competitors beat me out. It’s an occupational hazard.”

 

He yanks a flinching Corteo close, close enough that his next few words ring out right near his ear.

 

“But then you tried _to kill me_.”

 

Avilio draws in a quick sharp breath.

 

 

“Didn’t you?” Nero demands, shaking Corteo lightly. “Tell your _good_ friend here how you plotted to have me dropped at the docks, Corteo. That’s not real friendly, eh? Especially considering who works for me." He spares a pointed glance to Angelo's direction. "Hell, I even found a cement mixer primed and waiting!” He barks a short laugh. “Amazing, Avilio. All planned down to the last littke fucking detail. This little devil really wants me dead.”

 

 

“Nero-” Avilio starts. “You can’t-”

 

 

“I can’t.” Nero heaves an annoyed sigh. “I can’t what, Avilio? I can’t kill the little rat? Why, because you were what, friends?”

 

 

This time, he looks Avilio square in the eye. Avilio is blind to it. There's nothing he can gain from Corteo's friendship. It's surprising that its gone this far actually. Nero's not a fool. He knows exactly where to Avilio sneaks out every weekend; where it is he spends his time. The barkeep reciprocates this care for Avilio a lot in return.  It’s a pity. Maybe had Corteo agreed to join them when he first offered...

 

 

“I'm going to hurt him." Nero intones flatly. "Then I'm going to put a bullet in his head and end his misery. Maybe, who knows, I should feed his body to the fishes, same way he intended to do to me.” Corteo whimpers this time, bruised eyes closing behind a shattered lens.

 

He knows why Corteo did this. And it pisses him off. Corteo is the reason Avilio still clings to his past without caring for the costs he's racking up. 

 

 

Soft things don’t survive in this hell. Nero will break him, and then put him together better than before. And for that he needs Corteo.

 

 

“Don’t do this,” Avilio says.

 

 

He looks a little angry and a little scared. Like he can't decide what to do, and it's a situation not entirely unfamiliar to Nero's own senses. He quickly wrings out any stinging empathy that wants to reach for Avilio. Furious at himself for even thinking it, Nero tightens his grip on Corteo. There will ever only be room for the Family. Everything else comes secondary, if at all. Even Avilio. And it should have been the same for him. This little rascal barkeep should warrant nothing from Avilio but here they are.

 

 

“Very well. You make a choice then, Avilio,” Nero says, eyes dark. “I'll give you two options."

 

 

“I won't fault you for choosing either,” he adds, magnanimously. His mouth twists to the side, dimple showing and Angelo has to breath slow, bite his lip. Cool his rage.

 

 

His hands clench. He looks away. Not yet, he cautions himself. It’s not time. Not yet.

 

 

He finds Corteo's eyes, frightened, pleading in a way that makes him feel sick with guilt. You idiot, he wants to say. I told you to stay out of this. I told you it was too early. I told you I would come to you. 

 

 

He refuses to entertain the dark voice that whispers - _but it's been over a year now, Angelo, why, what's the matter, are you going soft? What's happened to priorities._ I wasn't ready, he tells himself. He knows he's lying, knows why despite taking out two of Nero's closest, he has yet to make his next move.

 

 

Nero walks Corteo closer to Avilio, shoves him to his knees in front of him. He goes down hard, staggering gracelessly. His manacled hands scrabble uselessly to steady his fall. His hands touch Avilio's shoes.

 

 

“Two choices,” Nero reiterates, tone darkening. “One: he doesn’t give us the recipe, I don’t get my booze, you get to kill him.” Avilio looks at him, murder in his eyes. “Two, he gives me the recipe, I get my booze... he gets you off, and then, then he gets to go home.”

 

 

The silence that comes after, Nero observes, is profoundly enjoyable.

 

“You can’t mean that,” Avilio says with some difficulty. He’s visibly reining in the cold fury of his anger but Nero would rather have that anger than the unsure, vulnerable Avilio of before.  Avilio has to understand. Not all are meant for this life but he will make sure Avilio  can walk by his side when the time comes. There's no place for things like friendship, no place for anything that could get you killed outside of the family. And he's warned Avilio before. So it's the hard way now.

 

 

“Oh yes,” Nero adds offhandedly, “I might have forgot to mention, that I have already had a taste."

 

 

The look that Avilio levels on him could ground ships.

 

 

 He smirks, crouches, and runs a thumb over Corteo's split lip. "A taste," he murmurs, "of your youth, Avilio, and it was the sweetest thing, like an apple slow to ripe, but tart and delicious all the same."

 

 

He rises and steps forward, his gaze settling firmly on Avilio. "The penalty for his crime is death. You know that. Hell, you should be glad he has something to barter his life with. You should be glad I'm giving you a choice even," he says, voice going dark and deep.

 

 

"I refuse-" Angelo starts, scowling, seething at the reprimand but Nero simply shrugs and palms his revolver, nudging it up against Corteo's thick curly hair. Angelo's mouth closes with a click. His face settles into a mutinous expression and it doesn't waver in the slightest.

 

 

The intense stand-off is broken by the last thing either expects.

 

 

Corteo's hands move to grip Angelo's trousers. His head bows. "Please," he rasps. "Please, A-Avilio. Please l-let me-" He breaks off into a sob. "Please," he mumbles. "Please, please, _please oh god_."

 

 

Nero registers the dying look on Avilio's face with intense satisfaction.

 

 

He moves to stand behind Avilio, hands smoothing down over tense shoulders. "Ssh," he pacifies. "Let me."

 

 

His hands brush Corteo's aside and skillfully, with the ease of long practice, unbutton Avilio's trousers.

 

 

Angelo draws in a deep shuddering breath. "No," he says.

 

 

Nero nuzzles his hair, lets the curve of his smile be felt against that cheek. His hands ease inside pants, and then under too thin briefs. You'll never forget this, he thinks. I can take as well as give Avilio. You'll remember the shame of this forever. Cross me again, and I won't be as kind.

 

 

"Get hard," Nero murmurs into Avilio's hair, inhaling the smell of cigarette smoke. He bites the curve of an ear, follows the line with his tongue. "Do it for him."

 

 

Some lessons require not a threat, but an act. Following up has always been one of Nero's strong suits.

 

"His life is a gift,," Nero says. "A debt. A favor. Don't waste it."

 

 

Corteo breathes in once, slow. It's the last easy breath he'll have that night.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I felt really bad that I wouldn't be giving you guys something from the GnD series so I edited this and I'm putting it up. I had originally intended it to come later in the series but I'll reorder them as and when I put each one up.
> 
> :D Corteo's gonna get real good at using his mouth. Poor baby. This is literally below the belt. Teehee.


End file.
